Of Sex and Whiskey
by Krusader
Summary: [OneShot] He had come to the Roadhouse after finding her apartment empty. One call to Ash and he knew exactly where to find her. DeanJo.


**Of Sex and Whiskey**  
_Dean and Jo_

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.  
**Notes: **Written for the _Beginnings_ prompt at spnhetlove at livejournal.

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He played pool like he had nothing to prove – careless shots between sips of whiskey. He had come to the Roadhouse after finding her apartment empty. One call to Ash and he knew exactly where to find her. With the bar abandoned except for her, they caught up on recent hunts over a game of pool that she coerced him into. Up until now he had dominated the table but as he downed the whiskey his game started to get clumsier. She watched him miss his next shot.

"Not bad," Jo grinned.

"Think you can do better?" Dean challenged her, leaning on his stick and watching her every move. With one last shot he could win the game.

She picked up her stick and strode in front of him. "Watch and learn, hotshot."

She bent over, concentrating on lining up her shot when she felt him hovering over her. She closed her eyes, forcing down a deep breath and taking in the smell of whiskey on his. The past month without him near was terrible but now that he was here, leaning in so close to her ear that she feel him without actually touching him, it was pure hell.

Before he left on that last hunt they had an arrangement. Unadulterated sex. Friends with benefits. No strings, no obligations, no love. It was working great until she became accustomed to his presence every weekend, rocking her world before the inevitable goodbye each Sunday when they would go their separate ways only to be reunited when the need arose.

She grew attached. She let her damn emotions get in the way and when he left her doorstep four weeks ago, no promises of return, she reluctantly returned to the humdrum life she led before he crashed into her apartment six months ago.

She let out a deep breath and took the shot, trying vainly to ignore the subtle _miss it_ he whispered into her ear. _Miss it_ she did. Miserably.

She turned to Dean with a scowl. "Jerk."

Dean only grinned that damned cocky grin of his and moved to the other side of the table to take his next shot. Jo followed, stopping behind him. She placed one hand on his rear, leaning her chin on his shoulder as he leaned over the table.

"Sure you wanna go for that one?" she pondered out loud, getting an antagonizing glare from Dean.

"Shut it," he stated, not really expecting her to listen. She never did.

He pulled back to shoot and as he went to move forward again she squeezed her grip on his ass. Accidentally putting too much force behind his shot, the cue ball flew over the edge and rolled across the bar.

He turned to face her. "Bitch."

She flashed him her _I win_ smirk.

God, she's sexy when she does that. 

Dean cleared the remaining balls from the table with his arm, sending them into various pockets. The wayward ball could wait until later. It had been four _fucking_ long weeks since he had last been able to feel her body move in motion with his own.

He traced one finger along her jaw, his thumb wiping along her lips before he attacked her mouth. She dropped her stick, clattering against the floor, caught off guard as she sighed into him, releasing the pent up anxiety. His shirt was already removed. Hands and nails digging into his back, she couldn't believe it had been so long since she was this close to him. She could taste the whiskey on his tongue, smell it on his breath. She didn't need the alcohol to feel intoxicated; Dean did one helluva job of that on his own.

He stepped into her, pushing her against the edge of the table. She could feel his erection driving against her thigh, begging her to release him of his constraints. Pulling at the button on his jeans, she undid them and slowly slid them down, working his boxers along with the denim. She wrapped her fingers around his length, causing a low growl to sound from deep within his chest.

Moving in slow strokes, teasing him, she wanted to make this last as long as possible. In response, he crushed his mouth against hers in a great clatter of teeth and hot breath. His hands planted firmly on her waist, he dug his fingers into her hips each time her hand made a full run along his cock.

Soon unable to stand the pressure and growing impatient with her tedious pace, he thrust into her hand. She tightened her grip on him, rubbing him harder. His stubble against her cheek, grazing down along her throat as his breath left a trail of hot dampness on her skin, he nestled into the curve of her shoulder and paused there, open-mouthed, teeth pressed against the smoothness of her shoulder as he shoved himself harder against her.

With her free hand, she reached around his back, hugging him close, feeling the tiny beads of sweat beginning to form on his lower back. By now she had every curve of his muscles, every scar, every freckle burned into her memory. She knew how it drove him wild when she brushed her lips against his earlobe, and as she did so he shivered and squirmed under her touch, grunting, ending it all too soon.

He stood there, still, silent save for his heavy breathing. Dean Winchester never ceased to amaze her. They had done this so many times before, she thought she finally had him figured out, somehow thought he would hold out much longer. Maybe it was the lack of contact for nearly four weeks. Maybe he was so overwhelmed with the feel of her against him, doing for him what he had to do for himself so many nights when the memory of her wouldn't leave his burdened mind.

Pulling back, he noticed the results on her jeans. "Sorry," he stammered, flashing her a grin.

She kissed him lightly, lingering against his lips for a few seconds. "I didn't like them anyway," she murmured against his mouth.

Fingers hooked in the belt loops of her jeans, he tugged her into him, kissing her gingerly at first but soon progressing to something fiercer, more powerful, ravaging her mouth with his tongue, her teeth clacking against his in a passionate frenzy. She cupped his jaw with her hands, reveling in the gruff sensation of his stubble against her palms. _God_ she loved making out with this man.

He reached around her back, large hands slipping under her tanktop, sliding the black fabric over her head and tossing it onto the pool table. He seized her behind and lifted her to sit on the edge of the table. He pulled her boots and socks off, admiring the dark colored nail polish that hadn't been there the last time he saw her.

"It was a slow week. I had to find something to do when the demons were gone," Jo remarked, having noticed the slightly surprised glance he threw at her.

Dean just smirked. She was always full of surprises. He lifted one bare foot and placed a kiss in its crook, hot breath tickling her toes. He let it fall back into place and grabbed the top of her jeans, undoing the fastenings and ripping them off of her. With her pants carelessly discarded over his shoulder, she felt delightfully exposed, sprawled out on the table with only a bra and a moist pair of panties keeping him from having all of her.

He wasted no time in getting straight to the point. Shifting her panties aside, he shoved two fingers into her folds. She felt a soft purr rise up but the sound fell on deaf ears, as they were too involved in each other to notice. His other hand snaked along her abdomen, up to her breasts, carressing her already hardening nipples through her bra. A cold shiver followed as he reached around her back, the cool metal of his ring leaving a tingling sensation against her smooth skin.

He unlatched her bra with one hand, the other still kneading into her sex. She lost track of what happened between that moment and the rush of his palms against her breast once more, a jolt of electricity racing down her spine when the ring grazed over her nipple. Four weeks was too fucking long to go without his hands scouring her body.

He peeled her soaked panties off, letting them fall to his feet. He spread her legs wider and smoothed his hands down her thighs to the point where they joined her hips, using his thumbs to make slow, even circles against her skin. She let herself fall back against the soft green layer of the pool table. Her chest heaved when his lips brushed against her folds. Shallow wisps of air from his nose made her skin tingle in anticipation.

His tongue dipped in as a tantalized breath fluttered out of her lungs. He moved in swift motions, exploring every part of her except the part she wanted most. She leaned on stiffened arms, hands strewn behind her with a white-knuckle grasp on the edge of the table. His tongue continued its motions until finally he utilized his teeth, swiping and scraping at her clit, mixed with quick jabs with his tongue. She bit back a moan, her bottom lip turned white. There was no need for it though – Dr. Badass was 'out' and her mother was nowhere to be found.

Dean placed a wet kiss on her stomach, returning his fingers to their earlier mission. He felt for the small of her back, the place where her skin was no longer even and smooth thanks to a nasty cut from a spirit they hunted together months ago. One finger traced along the jagged scar before he flattened his grip on her back, pulling her up so he could reach her lips.

He attacked her with a wet kiss. The smell of sex, of _her_ permeated through her senses as she tasted herself on his lips. His thumb circled her clit, stroking harder until all he did was press against her. The thrill of him weighing into her sent a quiver of ecstasy rippling through her body. He thrust his fingers into her, stopping when his ring met hot flesh and paused, holding it there when she growled into his mouth.

She bit into his lower lip when he started to move in and out, thrusting deeper with each go. He laid her back on the table, kissing her lips, her throat, her breasts, before settling into a smooth rhythm with his fingers. He took one nipple into his mouth as he squeezed her other breast, still keeping up the pace between her thighs. She arched her back up, demanding more, imploring him to fuck her harder. He kissed the base of her breast, burying his face between them and further moistening her already sweat soaked skin with his breath.

Bucking her hips against his hand, she clawed at the carpeted table as he thrust faster. Her breath hitched in her throat. She impulsively latched her legs around his back as her climax crashed over her. She tilted her head back and let out a guttural cry. The intensity of his thrusts slowly abated and soon he was only brushing his lips over her stomach, easing her down as her body still shivered. She squinted against the dim lighting of the bar, waiting for her vision to come back into focus.

She sighed, completely spent. "Oh _god, De-_… mom!"

Dean chuckled, his wet hand running along her thigh. "It's _Dean_."

"No, Dean, stop," Jo stuttered, sitting up and trying to keep her balance. She was still a bit lightheaded.

Dean's gaze fell on the bar where he found the figure of a very pissed off Ellen. His cocky grin quickly faded and he helped Jo down from the table, steadying her as her knees buckled under her weight. She grabbed her tanktop from the table and pulled it on as Dean fixed his jeans. She searched for her own pants to no avail; they were lost in the shadows and Ellen's impatient stare boring into her mind was not helping the situation go smoothly.

Dean caught on to her problem and grabbed up his shirt, wrapping it around her waist and holding it there to cover her up. Ellen approached them and Dean could sense his hands tremble for a moment. One of his worst nightmares was having to face Jo's mother when she looked like _that_.

"How long were you standing there?" Jo blurted out. If she was at all intimidated by the ferocity in Ellen's eyes, she sure as hell didn't show it.

"Long enough," Ellen simply stated. "How long?" she asked, implying the now all too obvious relationship her daughter had developed with the oldest Winchester.

"Five months. Off and on."

Dean stood in silence, not quite sure what to do other than be there for Jo. Her slender fingers entwined with his and gave him the courage to speak up. "Listen, El…"

"Don't you even think of hurting my baby girl," Ellen cut him off.

"Mom, I'm an adult, not your baby girl anymore," Jo reminded her.

"I just don't want you to get hurt again." Ellen's temper seemed to have cooled a bit.

Dean tried again. "I love her, you know."

"What?" Jo asked, twisting in his arms to get a better look at his face. He never admitted that before. It went against everything they agreed on when they started with these endeavours. _No strings attached. Just sex. Don't fall in love._

It was too late – he couldn't take it back now. "I love you." His voice almost trembled as he breathed those three little words.

Jo nestled into the curve of his arm, leaning her head against his chest, eyes never leaving his. Forgetting that her mom was still there, she placed her lips on Dean's, closing her eyes, lingering, allowing this new sensation to wash over her. "I love you, too." Words muttered against his jaw, received with a small kiss on the corner of her mouth.

Ellen had backed to the doorway leading to her room. She watched the scene with placidity. Before she disappeared down the hall, she turned back to Dean.

"Just don't love her and leave her. Got that?" Ellen's voice had a certain calmness about it. As long as Jo was happy.

"I won't," Dean consented. "I promise."


End file.
